


Trouble Talking

by ficlicious



Series: SHIELD Academy for Avengers in Training [3]
Category: Avengers Academy (Video Game), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: AU of an AU, Alternate Universe - Twins, Avengers in College, F/M, Fluff and Angst, M/M, Miscommunication, Misunderstandings, Relationship Issues, Toni Stark Needs A Hug, dumbasses in love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-06
Updated: 2016-03-06
Packaged: 2018-05-25 02:54:29
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,391
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6177337
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ficlicious/pseuds/ficlicious
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <b>
    <i>or, The Perils of Jumping to Conclusions</i>
  </b>
  <br/>
  <i>or, Sleepless in Manhattan</i>
</p><p>She’s supposed to be at Stark Tower right now, working with JARVIS on optimizing the upgrades to the computer systems, but she doesn’t currently have the focus to touch electronics as complicated as Starktech.</p><p>Also, she just doesn’t want to. It’s much more fun, much more cathartic, to stand in a lane in the empty range and just blow stuff to smithereens.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Trouble Talking

**Author's Note:**

> A few days ago, I received a prompt from an anonymous soul, requesting a particular scenario:
> 
> _You wrote jealous/insecure!Clint when Clint thought Toni was dating him and Cap at the same time, could you write something where Clint and Jess are good friends and Toni doesn’t handle it very well and have some bonding time with Nat? thank you!!_
> 
> I thought I could knock it out in 1500 words or so, the same length Double Date ended up being. But it grew, and grew, and grew, and became a monster. But I finally got it done, so please enjoy. :)

Toni may not call herself a futurist, like her brother does, but she doesn’t need a lofty title to see the shape of things to come. She’s not given to fits of melodrama or insecurity, because she prefers doing to thinking, action to inaction, solving problems to dwelling on them. But even she has a limit, a breaking point, a line at which she throws up her hands and admits defeat because there is no possible solution to the problem.

Which is how she finds herself at the range, gauntleted to her elbows, blasting target after target with her palm repulsors, trying to work off the sick swirl of dread and anger in the pit of her stomach. She’s supposed to be at Stark Tower right now, working with JARVIS on optimizing the upgrades to the computer systems, but she doesn’t currently have the focus to touch electronics as complicated as Starktech.

Also, she just doesn’t want to. It’s much more fun, much more cathartic, to stand in a lane in the empty range and just blow stuff to smithereens. She has the lane set for only basic target practice. She doesn’t have the wherewithal for more complicated marksmanship. Her speed right now is point-and-shoot, and that suits her just fine, as long as she can crank the dial up to safe maximum and cut loose.

The last target of this batch disintegrates in a double-barreled wash of blue light, and she powers her gauntlets down, fold away. She turns from the barrier to hit the switch and reload the targeting box with a fresh pad. As fun as this is, she doesn’t think it’s working to take the pressure off the irritation swirling like sludge in her brain. Her thought patterns are still being choked out. Her synapses are still clogging one by one, shutting down until she’s left with only a single track, a single thought. A single, horrible notion rattling hollow in her head:

She and Clint are not working out.  

The worst part about it is, there isn’t anything in particular she can point at and say, t _here. That’s it. That’s the reason we’re not working_. They’re not fighting. There hasn’t been any disagreements or forgotten birthdays or other reasons to be mad at each other. They’re not even avoiding each other. _Then again_ , Toni thinks grimly, carefully packing the new batch of targets in the feed tray and slamming the panel closed, _we’d have to have time to spend together in order to avoid each other._ And that was the real problem.

With the Academy showing such early success in fighting off the Chitauri a few months ago, the demands for the Avengers’ service has only grown. She’s seen more of her own brother, Sam Wilson, and Rhodey than she’s seen anyone else, even her own squad of Cap and Thor. After a few mishaps and near-misses with the latest crisis to hit New York — Doom’s Doombots swarming through Manhattan — Fury declared that alternate squads of similarly-powered Avengers would train together in order to maximize their teamwork.

And it had been _fine_. She’s living, breathing and dreaming of power armor and artificial wings every moment of the day, but it can't last forever. She's sure things will normalize after Fury is satisfied the Avengers have done all they can to improve their teamwork and personal skillsets.

And then Toni’d seen the pictures on Jan and Kamala’s social media feeds. As more versatile fighters, they’d been assigned as a floating squad, and moved between groups as they were needed. And because both Jan and Kamala are absolutely addicted to selfies and group photos, their phones had constantly been snapping.

And in amongst the candids of the aerial team and the sparring brawls of the heavy hitters had been the antics of the sneaky spies. And something sick and nauseating had settled into Toni’s stomach at the look on Clint’s face in the shots he shared with Jessica. And every time a date got canceled or plans got rearranged or Fury sent out the new squads on specialized missions, that feeling only grew.

**_FTHOOM_ **

The target on the far end of the lane disintegrates under a blinding, wide repulsor beam, and Toni winces, blinking spots out of her eyes. Her concentration slipped, and she’s managed to unconsciously circumvent the automatic safety settings of her repulsors. She pauses long enough to examine the damage, and is relieved to see it’s only a few scorch marks and a slightly warped lane divider.

“Get it together, Stark,” she says under her breath, and does her best to shake the dour funk out of her head and posture.

It takes only a second to mentally command the lane to go active again. She takes her position and raises her arms again. Her internal clock says it’s almost lunchtime, but Toni has no appetite and no intention of going anywhere.

She has stuff to blast.

—–

Unfortunately for her frustration levels, Tony and Steve fish her out of the range before she’s had a chance to do more than blow another handful of targets into oblivion. She hears the heavy clank of her brother’s jet boots in the hall first, and the excitable chatter of his voice, but once she hears Steve’s voice answering, Toni knows she’s not going to be able to brush them off. Steve has a way of looking at a person, a particular way of arching his eyebrow or setting his mouth that can make a person feel about two inches tall. Tony calls it Steve’s “Captain America Disapproves of Your Decisions” scowl. It’s so extremely effective, it makes a person change their plans immediately upon even suspecting they’re going to be on the receiving end of the look in the near future.

Toni changes her plans immediately.

She finishes her firing sequence as Tony and Steve come around the corner and through the door. She winds down the repulsors and gives the command for the armor to flow back into her skin again. “Tony, Steve,” she says by way of greeting, dredging up her best facsimile of her normal happy smile. “What are you doing down here?”

Tony ignores her question in favor of eyeing her now-bare arms with unconcealed envy. “Life would be so much easier for me if I could store my armor in my bones like you can,” he says, for the hundredth time, and reaches out to take her arm, turning it over as if he can see his upgraded tech through her skin. “How’s the new nano-reactor tech integrating? Any problems?”

“You’d be the first I’d tell, Anthony,” Toni says and, just because it’s one of the most irritating things she can do to him, she ruffles her hand briskly through his hair. He makes an indignant noise and sticks out his tongue at her, smoothing his hair back down. She grins, turns her attention to Steve. “Not your usual beat, Cap,” she says. “Coming to bust me for skipping class today?”

“That’s above my paygrade,” he replies with a smile and a shake of his head. “The Director’s concern, not mine.” He avenges Tony by ruffling her hair the same way she ruffled Tony’s, and it’s her turn to squawk and finger-comb her hair in effort to straighten it out. “No one’s seen you in a few days,” he says. “You missed Thor’s Day last night —”

“I filled in so they weren’t Tonyless,” Tony smoothly cuts in, and leans against Steve. “We watched _Pacific Rim_ , by the way. Thor approved of it most heartily, to directly quote the demigod himself.”

Toni scowls. She’d been looking forward to that one, especially after _Beowulf_. Oh well. Sacrifices to be made, and all that.

Steve pokes Tony in the cheek, and Tony’s mouth snaps shut. “We were just worried, that’s all,” he says. “You’re not answering anyone’s texts or calls, so…” He shrugs, a little awkwardly. “We came to see if you were okay.”

“Well, Steve did, anyway. I just came because I’d follow Steve anywhere.” Tony’s expression is a little less flippant than his words otherwise indicate, and Toni winces inwardly. She might be able to fool Steve, but her own twin? He knows her better than anyone, and he’s clearly telling her with the twitch of an eyebrow and the set of his eyes that he knows something’s wrong. “I tried to tell him that this is a thing we do sometimes,” Tony continues, sliding an arm around Steve’s waist. “Just disappear for a few days and emerge triumphant with a genius new piece of tech, but he insisted we check up on you anyway.”

“I don’t want to intrude if you’re working,” Steve says, faintly defensive, and Toni’s amused by the cute flush of pink in his cheeks. She doesn’t think she’ll ever get tired of how adorably flustered Steve gets by her brother.

“It’s all good, Steve,” she says, and fetches her coat off the divider she’d tossed it over earlier. She pulls it on, then bends to scoop up her bag from the floor beneath it and sling the strap over her shoulder. “I was actually just thinking about going to lunch. I’m kinda hungry. Is that where you guys were headed?”

Steve and Tony exchange a look that Toni can’t read. Whatever passes between them, Steve looks less concerned when they turn their attention back to her. “I could eat,” Steve says.

“You can always eat,” Tony replies, jabbing Steve in the stomach lightly.

“Supersoldier,” Steve shoots back, grabbing Tony’s hand with a quick motion and threading their fingers together. “I burn calories fast.”

Toni rolls her eyes and gives them her best disgusted, scandalized look. “Oh my god, you two are sickening. Let’s just go eat before every tooth rots out of my head from the sweetness.”

“You’ve never seen you and Clint,” Tony says, in a very pointed tone, and Toni misses a step on her way to the door. She thinks she recovers smoothly, but when she turns around to stick her tongue out at her brother, she knows that it wasn’t as smooth as she hoped. Steve doesn’t look like he noticed anything’s wrong, but Tony’s eyes are knowing and thoughtful.

“At least we restrict our public displays of affection to areas with doors that lock,” she retorts, but her heart isn’t really in the snark. She hunches her shoulders. “Can we just drop it now?” she mutters.

“It doesn’t count if the doors aren’t actually locked,” Tony says, and then _oofs_ as Steve elbows him gently in the ribs. Toni winces internally again. Guess he does know something’s off. “And sure, sis,” Tony says, rubbing his ribs. “It’s dropped. Until you want to pick it up again.”

Toni jumps when Steve’s free hand unexpectedly settles on her shoulder, warm and comforting. “Whatever it is, you know you can always talk to me too if you need.”

She pats his hand and manages to find a faint smile for him. “I know, Steve,” she says. “And I’ll take you up on it. I promise. Just not right now. I’m hungry.”

Neither one of them call her on the lie, and the rest of the walk to the quad is in awkward silence.

—–

Thor’s face lights up with a wide, pleased grin when Toni comes around the corner of the coffee cart with Steve and Tony, and he rises to his feet with a hearty, full-throated laugh. “Shield sister!” he cries, rises out of his seat at his table with the Warriors Three, and holds his hands out to her in welcome. “Long have you absented yourself from our company. Your sharp wit and immense beauty have been dearly missed! Come! Sit! I shall fetch you a pocket of pizza and one of those fizzy physician beverages from the purveyor of hot foods!”

Toni runs a quick translation of Thor-to-English in her head, and smiles as she takes a seat next to Fandral, who despite being in discussion with Hogun about some sort of Vanaheim sports competition or another shuffles down closer to Volstagg to make room for her. “I would absolutely love one,” she says sincerely. “Thank you, Thor.”

He clasps his fist over his heart and gives her a very courtly half-bow. “I shall make haste,” he says, and turns on his heel.

Tony scowls as he hauls a chair from the next table over and shoves it next to Toni’s seat on the bench. “Thanks,” he calls at Thor’s back. “I don’t need anything! Kind of you to offer though!”

Steve sighs fondly, and plops his books down in front of Tony. “Would you like your usual cheeseburger, Shellhead?”

“I adore you,” Tony says with a cheerful smile, tilting his face up. “Yes, please.” Blushing furiously, Steve bends and gives him a quick peck on the lips, and then strides across the quad to where the food service kiosks are. Toni eyes her brother until he glances at her. “What?”

“You’re absolutely gone on him,” she says, grinning, and folds her arms on the table. “Lovesick: it’s a great look on you.”

“Shut up,” Tony says with an unrepentant smile. He opens his mouth to say something else, but then apparently thinks better of it, because he closes it again. Toni is pathetically grateful he does so, because she has a good idea of what he was about to say.

His smile fades as he watches her, and his eyes go piercing and serious. “You wanna tell me what’s going on with you and Clint now?” he says quietly.

Toni sighs, shoves her hands through her hair and makes fists around thick handfuls. “There’s nothing going on,” she says grumpily. “We’ve barely seen each other for the last couple of weeks. What could possibly go on under those circumstances?”

She knows if she looks up, there’s going to be nothing but sympathy on Tony’s face, and she’s not sure she can handle that right now. He covers her wrists with his bare hand, and the gauntleted fingers of his other one curl around her shoulder. “Hey,” he says, soft and compassionate. “You always got me, you know.”

She closes her eyes and tilts her head until her cheek is resting on the smooth, cool knuckles of his gauntlet. “I know, Tony. We’ve had each other’s backs since the womb.”

“Exactly.” He squeezes her shoulder, leans his forehead against her temple. “You want me to shoot him in the ass? Cos I totally will, you know.”

That pulls a laugh from her and she slings an arm around his neck. “Nah,” she says. “I can do my own shooting. But I appreciate that you’re willing.”

“You just give me the word, and it’s done. Seriously. No one screws with family.”

Toni makes a disgruntled noise, shakes her head. “It isn’t that, Tony. It’s—” Like magic, a plate with a pair of still-steaming pizza pockets and a can of Dr. Pepper with condensation from the fridge appear in front of her. Thor looks mightily pleased with himself as he floats back into his seat.

“I return!” he announces, completely unnecessarily. “Sate your hunger and quaff your thirst, shield sister, and tell me, how fares your Midgardian sorcery?”

“ _Science_ ,” says Tony, looking pained, and he rubs his forehead with both hands. “On Earth, we call it _science_.”

“Is not all sorcery merely science Midgardians cannot yet explain?” Toni says loftily, and cracks open the can of Dr. Pepper with a grin she can’t help. “The Odinson speaks in the parlance of his home realm. Verily, are not in fact science and sorcery interchangeable words for the same mysterious workings of the Nine Realms?”

Tony makes inarticulate noises for a moment, then pulls himself together long enough to glare with filth and death at her. “Do not _do that,_ ” he snaps. “Do not go all Asgardian on me. You spend too much time with Thor as it is. You do not need to channel his freaking speech patterns as well. It’s just wrong on so many levels.”

She grins her best sadist grin at him, then tilts her head back and gulps Dr. Pepper in long swallows. It burns on the way down, and she desperately wants to stop, but keeps going. Her eyes are watering by the time she’s done, but she crushes the can in her hand and slams it into the ground. “Another!”

Tony groans and buries his face in his hands as Thor throws his head back and laughs loudly. “That just isn’t right,” Tony complains, voice muffled by his palms. “That’s just so not right at all.”

“Then another you shall have, shield sister!” Thor thunders, and raises his hand. “Shopkeep! Another fizzy physician beverage! And add its cost to my tally!”

Steve looks curious as he returns, carefully balancing a tray laden with food. “Am I missing something?” he asks as he carefully sits back down and separates Tony’s cheeseburger platter from his own food.

“Toni is acting like Thor,” Tony whines. “Make her stop. Use the face.”

Steve arches an eyebrow at Toni and she holds up both her hands. “I’m done,” she says. “No need for the face.”

“I wouldn’t,” Steve protests mildly, but his attention and interest have already returned to his food.

They pass the meal with companionable conversation. Toni is content listening to the Asgardians’ spirited debate about some competition she can’t pronounce, no matter how many knots she ties her tongue in, and makes plans with Tony to perform at least three experiments in the coming weeks. Steve and Thor also extract a promise from her that she’ll be in attendance next Thor’s Day, on pain of being hunted down and scowled at by a disappointed Captain America.

She’s feeling more like herself with every passing minute, until Tony stiffens beside her for a second. “Don’t look now,” he says quietly, under the volume of Thor trying to convince Steve to arm-wrestle for the last donut on Steve’s plate. “But the super sneaky spy squad is out in force.”

Her shoulders tense again. She doesn’t want to look, but she does anyway. Across the quad, Black Widow, Spider-Woman and Hawkeye, kitted for a mission, are coming from the direction of the SHIELD building. Every iota of feel-good Toni’s restored over the last forty-five minutes dissipates, and the sick spin of hopelessness settles back into her gut. She watches them cross the quad, head following their path. Jessica and Clint are laughing and gesturing animatedly, playfully shoving each other, bumping shoulders. Natasha says something over her shoulder, and Clint’s head swivels in her direction.

She stares at him, he stares at her. Then he tentatively lifts a hand, waving to her.  She gives him a small wave back, a tiny flick of her fingers. And then Jessica — flirty tall and flexible freaking Jessica —leans in to say something into his ear. Clint nods and waves again to Toni…

… And continues walking. Hurries, even, without a backward glance or a kiss blown towards her.

Toni tastes pizza in the back of her throat and she abruptly stands, shoving away from the table with a sharp push. She hauls her tech glasses out of her jacket pocket and slides them on. “I’m going home,” she mutters, calling her jet boots into active status, letting her gauntlets clasp around her forearms and hands again.

Tony’s face is dark, and Steve’s eyes are filled with concern. “Don’t,” Tony says. “Home is not a good place for the mood you’re in.”

“Here is not a good place for the mood I’m in,” she snaps back, and powers her jets, pushing down with her hands to let the repulsors provide flight stability. “I’ll be fine. I just need to be in the workshop for awhile. Our workshop, not SHIELD’s crappy knockoff version.”

Steve reaches out a hand, forehead furrowed in slight confusion and overwhelming concern. “Toni,” he says. “Stay and talk.”

“Later, Steve,” she says firmly, and shoots off into the sky. She’s halfway back to the Stark mansion on Fifth Avenue when a text pops up on the HUD on the right lens of her sunglasses.

_[clint] sorry, babe. didn’t have time to come over.  
[clint] but i think we need to talk. i’ll text when i’m back, get together then?_

Well. That’s that, then. There’s only ever one reason anyone in a relationship ever uses the words _we need to talk_. She burns her jets hard, flies faster than she’s ever dared in the canyons of Manhattan, and slams down in her brother’s usual landing pose in the courtyard of the mansion in record time.

“JARVIS, I want a dozen pints of fudge ice cream ordered, and renew my Netflix subscription,” she says, after unlocking and striding in through the French doors of her balcony. “And lock down my phone. I’m not taking any calls or texts from anyone. Except Tony. Or Steve.”

“Yes, miss,” JARVIS says, and sounds faintly disapproving. “And what message would you like to relay to explain your self-imposed hermitage?”

“Just tell ‘em I’m working,” she mutters, and flings herself face-first into the pillows of her bed. “It’ll even be true in a few hours.”

Until then, she’s just going to indulge in crying her eyes out.

——–

For a full day and a half, Toni has glorious solitude. She doesn’t even see the guy who drops off her pizza. She pays online, leaves a generous tip, and instructs the box to be dropped in the automatic dumbwaiter next to the front door. She plays angry power music on bust through the whole house, doesn’t sleep a wink, drinks inadvisable amounts of coffee, and wallows in electronics and engine grease. And she can do all this because there’s no one to rein her in.

She likes the Academy most days, but the formalized study environment and regimented schedules wear at her nerves like Beethoven played out of key. Neither she nor her brother have ever been good at coloring inside the lines, and she gets more work done in a caffeine-fuelled night than she has in weeks.

Or at least, that’s what she’s telling herself. Because if she doesn’t try to convince herself this is all a Good Decision, she’s going to start dwelling and brooding on the things that maybe aren’t such good decisions. Like a certain text she fired off after pulling herself off a tear-streaked pillow the day before. Decisive, firm, curt. _It’s been fun. It’s over. See you around._ Saving face, salvaging pride. No Stark is ever the dumpee, only the dumper.

But she’s not thinking about that. Just like she isn’t thinking about having to go back to the Academy at some point. Thor’s Day, no later, because she swore an oath on Mjolnir to be there, and she’s pretty sure Mjolnir wouldn’t like it if she broke her word. She’s also not thinking that it might be easier to just drop out altogether, or maybe see if SHIELD has an affiliate Academy over in Europe somewhere. Or on the Moon. Headmaster Uatu, there’s a thought. Which she is also not thinking about.

She’s vaguely aware that her thoughts are drifting into the “I’ve definitely been awake for too long” category, but can’t bring herself to leave the lab. She’s almost got the final upgrades ready for Tony’s hovertech and, as long as it doesn’t blow up the minute she fires it up, it should improve his speed and handling by at least sixteen percent.

Or, at least, that’s what she intends, but when she turns away from the secondary workstation where she’d been running her simulation, back to the main console to input the results, she comes nose-to-nose with Natasha.

She shrieks, high and girly, and reels backwards. The nano-armor streams around her forearms, flows across her palms and opens her repulsor ports. She brings her arms up, palms out, but lack of sleep has made her clumsy and sluggish, and she’s too late to defend herself.

Natasha steps inside Toni’s reach, and with the world’s most bored expression, knocks Toni’s first shot aside with the heel of her right hand and side-kicks the second into the ceiling. “You’re sloppy and slow,” she says, disapproving, then shoves Toni hard with two fingers on her forehead. Toni staggers back into her office chair, which rolls backwards for a couple of feet before bouncing off the wall. “When was the last time you slept?”

Toni blinks up at her, clutching the arms of her chair and planting her feet to keep it from spinning or pitching her out onto the floor. “What the hell are you doing here?”

“This is what happens when you don’t reply to anyone’s tweets, texts, chats, reblogs, phone calls, emails and smoke signals.” Natasha crosses her arms and actually honest-to-god taps her foot on the floor. “Mostly, I just came to check if you were dead. Now that I see you’re not, I’m considering rectifying that.”

Toni scowls, dark and sullen. “Go away, Romanova,” she says tiredly. “I’m not in the mood for this right now. I’m alive, pass the word, whatever. Send your smoke signals. I’m fine.”

Natasha arches an eyebrow and flips her hand out of where it’s tucked into the opposite elbow, tossing something at Toni. Toni miraculously catches it before it cracks into her forehead, but it’s pure dumb luck, not her exhausted reflexes. She brings it to eye level, and blinks in surprise again. It’s Clint’s phone. “You broke up with Clint,“ Natasha says evenly. "You’re not fine. Talk.”

“Or you’ll pull my fingernails out one by one?”

“Don’t tempt me, Stark.”

“And they say I have personality problems.” Toni eyes the phone again, then sets it aside. "How’d you even get this?”

“I picked his pocket the second I saw your face on the quad,” Natasha says, leaning against the edge of the console behind her. “You looked like you were about to do a monumentally stupid thing. It wasn’t even an hour later that text came in. _Tsk_.”

“And you care because… why?” She can feel the heat flush into her cheeks, and she scowls again, turning her head to the side. _Don’t cry, Stark._ “Jeez, Natasha. It’s not like it wasn’t heading that way anyway. This just saves everyone some time.”

Natasha is silent for so long Toni looks back at her. Natasha is staring at her with the sort of expression that could mean she’s completely flabbergasted and doesn’t know what to say, or she’s contemplating the most effective way to get rid of Toni’s body after she kills her. Without her expression shifting an eyelash, she asks, “What makes you think it was heading that way?”

“A number of reasons that are really none of your business,” Toni snaps. “As you are neither Clint nor I.” She pauses, looks down at the phone, the customized purple protective shell with the arrow and target motif. “Did he even see my text?”

“No, he didn’t.” Natasha sighs faintly. “Listen, Toni. I don’t do girl talk or feelings or any of that tittering teenage crap—”

“Then stop doing it,” Toni mutters.

“—but Clint is my best friend and to my great surprise, I actually don’t hate you. So seriously, what exactly is the problem?”

Toni hesitates, because out of all the people she thought would come force her to talk, Natasha Romanova was not on the top of the list. She doesn’t even know her that well, but if there’s one thing she does know, she’ll sit in this chair until doomsday if Natasha wants her to sit there.

“We have nothing in common, Natasha,” she finally says, throwing her arms up and just surrendering to what is, in essence, inevitability. “We don’t spend time together. We don’t even try very hard to work our schedules around each other. We barely text anymore, we don’t talk except for a hello here or there in the halls or on the quad. I can’t remember the last time we kissed, for cripes’ sake.” She rubs her temples, concentric circles. It doesn’t help the headache. “And I’m pretty sure he’s got his eye on someone else. So I didn’t wait around for him to dump me, because it’s sad and pathetic, but I wanted to keep just a shred of pride for myself. Satisfied?”

Natasha scoffs, hip swinging out as she crosses her arms again. “Hardly. You think Barton’s getting bored of you? For who, Jan? Amora?” She scoffs again. “Be serious, Stark. You’re the only thing that idiot sees.”

Toni’s anger spikes, and she surges out of the chair, teeth grinding. “Oh yeah?” She flicks her hand in the direction of the console behind her, pulling up Jan’s Instagram feed with a sharp, half-deliberate mental command. The Extremis in her blood scrolls through the endless parade of updates and hashtags and photos until she slaps her palm out in a “stop” gesture, freezing the feed on the one image that’s been bothering her the most.

It’s one of Kamala’s that Jan reposted to her own feed. Taken somewhere in New York, it was snapped at what looks like a moment before the subjects locked lips. Jessica hangs off the side of a building, and Clint’s staring up at her with a wide grin, weight forward leaning on his bow. It’s a look she’s seen on his face a dozen times, usually directed at her. That affectionate, hearts-in-eyes sappy grin that usually makes her heart melt.

She throws herself back down in the chair, hugs her arms tight across her body. “Explain that, if I’m the only one he sees,” she says, knows she’s whining now, knows she’s sullen and forlorn. She’s too tired to care.

“You two,” Natasha says, and for the first time Toni’s ever heard, there’s no sarcasm or snark or condescension. It’s amazement, with maybe a hint of disgust and a heavy underscore of surprised amusement. “You two are the world’s blindest, biggest morons. You need to talk to him.”

“I need to get back to work,” she mutters, hunching into her arms.

To her great surprise, Natasha crouches in front of her and sets her hands on both of Toni’s shoulders. “Talk to him, Toni,” she says gently. “It’s really not what you’re thinking.”

“Fine,” Toni says, frustrated and exasperated. “Fine. I’ll be back tomorrow, alright? I’ll talk to him then. Is that enough for you?”

“It is.” There’s a slight pause, and then Natasha asks, “I’m not good at this girly crap, but… Do you want me to stay?”

Toni jerks her head up, blinking wide at Natasha. “Uh…” Out of all the things she thought she’d ever hear come from the cold, aloof, sarcastic Black Widow, that was not one of them. “Why?”

Natasha shrugs, and her mask is firmly in place when she answers, “Simple math. You’re important to him. He’s important to me. Ergo, you’re important to me.”

Toni’s eyebrows go into her hairline. “I’m not sure if that should reassure me or scare the crap out of me.”

“Both.” Natasha smirks. “Am I staying or not?”

Toni considers for a long few minutes, watching Natasha carefully. Natasha doesn’t shift an inch, just leans against the console with her arms crossed and her eyebrow raised. “Yeah,” Toni finally says. “Stay. I’m not much good at girly crap either, but we can eat ice cream and watch movies or something.”

“Sounds good to me,” Natasha says, and Toni has to take a moment to wonder how even this is her life, when her best friends are alien gods and superhuman soldiers, Jekyll-and-Hyde scientists, flighty party girls with shrinking abilities, and expert marksmen and spies. With all that already in her life, what’s a paranoid, socially awkward assassin added to the tally?

—–

Toni is shaken awake at a godawful hour of the morning, and she blearily blinks up at Natasha who is leaning over her. “Izza movie over?” she mumbles, and struggles upright from her slump on the couch. Popcorn kernels tumble off her shirt and she swipes down her front with uncoordinated hands, missing more than a few.

“Long since,” Natasha says and holds out a steaming cup of coffee.

Toni takes it gratefully, inhaling the aromatic steam, feeling it clear some of the sluggishness out of her neural pathways. “Timezzt?”

“Early. Or late. Depends on your interpretation.”

Toni takes a long sip of the coffee, groaning softly at the heat spreading down her chest. It’s still dark in the room, lit only by the glow of the on-demand’s menu screen from the TV. “S’too early for classes. Was there Assembly?”

Natasha shakes her head with a rueful smile. “I’m afraid not,” she says. “But you have to wake up anyway, Toni. Your time’s up.”

Toni blinks up at her again, quaffing half the mug of coffee despite the searing heat of it. “What time?” In response, Natasha steps to the left. Behind her, sitting in the chair with his phone clenched in a white-knuckled hand is Clint. It’s hard to make out much of his face in the shadows of the room, but he looks pale and stricken, and he’s staring at Toni with bright, burning eyes. “Oh,” Toni says lamely. “That time.”

“Yep,” Natasha says. “So I’m going to just remove myself from the room.” And like the elite, deadly, highly-trained superspy she is, Natasha all but runs from the room, leaving Clint staring at Toni, and Toni staring at Clint.

Toni’s mouth goes dry, and her stomach roils. She sips her coffee to avoid having to find something to say. She’s still tired, and she’s going to screw this up so badly, but there’s no escaping it now. It’s here, it’s happening. She just needs to deal with it, get through it, get it over.

Clint closes his eyes for a moment, and the phone creaks in his hand. “What do you mean,” he asks softly, and his tone is so careful and neutral it almost physically hurts Toni to hear it, “it’s been fun, but it’s over?”

Toni winces, looks down at the remaining coffee in her mug, at the blue screen of the TV, at the shadowy corner of the room. Anywhere but at him. “Seems pretty cut and dried to me,” she mutters, and tosses the rest of her coffee back. She keeps the empty mug in her hands though, something to keep them occupied. Something to look at, instead of the horribly hurt look on her boyf— ex-boyfriend’s face.

“Was it something I did?” Clint continues, when it becomes obvious Toni isn’t going to respond. “I know I haven’t been exactly available lately, and that’s completely on me, but…” He sighs loudly and shoves a hand through his hair; judging from the way it’s spiking all over the place, he’s been doing it for awhile. “Tell me what it is. Let me try to fix it.”

“Clint…” she says softly.

He keeps going, like he didn’t hear her speak, his cadence picking up speed, tinged with frantic notes. “I know we’ve had to cancel a few date nights, and I know I totally stood you up two weeks ago, and I don’t really have a good excuse, except that A-Bomb showed up in Central Park and I went to help Bruce and Jan out, even though they could have completely handled it without me.”

Toni squeezes her eyes shut, and her teeth clench. “Clint…”

“It’s not the deaf thing, is it? I know there’s been times you called or texted, and I haven’t gotten back to you because I didn’t hear the phone, but you seemed okay when I told you I didn’t have my ears in, and…”

Jesus, she can’t take any more of this. “ _Clint_.”

He stops mid-sentence, snaps his mouth shut. “What?”

Toni sighs, shakes her head, mourns that she doesn’t have another cup of coffee. Or a stiff drink, for that matter. “I literally have microscopic machines in my blood keeping me alive,” she says. “My brother has a glorified electromagnet in his chest keeping _him_ alive. My best friend would be long dead if not for a magic potion he took seventy years ago. So trust me when I say that your hearing aids are not a deal breaker.”

“Then what is it, Toni? I mean, I’m not trying to be that guy here, but can I at least have a chance to try and fix whatever it is I did?”

“You didn’t do anything, okay?” Toni pinches the bridge of her nose between a forefinger and thumb, reaches for a more reasonable volume. “What’s to fix?”

“What’s broken?” Clint replies. “Cos that seems like a good place to start looking.”

“This is why I texted you,” she mutters, tipping her cup in a vain attempt to get one last tiny bit of caffeine. “To avoid this long, drawn-out trainwreck of a conversation.”

“You don’t get to do that,” he snaps, and great, now she’s pissed him off. “You’re going to break up with me, have the common freaking courtesy to do it face-to-face.”

“Okay, fine.” She sets the cup down on the side table hard, and the crack of porcelain on wood is as loud as a gunshot. “Where exactly is this going, huh? We have nothing in common. We don’t bother making time for each other. We don’t even bother saying hello half the time. We haven’t really spoken in weeks, except in a few text messages or tweets. I don’t need to be a futurist to see that there’s not exactly a future in that.”

Clint’s face is pale, drawn, tight. “Oh hey, look at that,” he says, heavy with sarcasm. “All of that is stuff we can fix. A neat list, just like I asked you for. Why the hell did I practically have to drag the words out of your mouth for you to just tell me?”

“Because I’m trying to make it easier for us both to just walk away!” Her hands shake, and she squeezes them into fists before shoving them both into her hair. “Because I don’t want to fight with you. Because… because…” Aw hell, her eyes are burning and shimmering, and there’s a lump the size of Long Island in her throat. “Because I’m trying to salvage some pride and dignity out of this, Clint,” she says thickly, and covers her face with her hands. “Okay? Because it’s stupid and selfish, but I want to hold my head up when this ends, and I can’t do that if I’m the one tossed aside.”

Clint makes an inarticulate noise of incredulity. “… And now you’ve totally lost me. Why the hell would you think I’m breaking up with you?”

“You said we have to talk,” she whispers, and can’t force herself to look at him for even a second. She knew this was going to hurt, but she didn’t know it would be this painful. “That only ever means one thing.”

“… yeah. That I think we have to talk. _Jesus_ , Toni. Is that what this is about?”

“People say it to their partners, and it usually means that they want to break things off,” she says miserably. “And I know you’re interested in someone else. It wasn’t hard to put things together.”

“And come up with a worst-case scenario that’s just a little insane and completely not true.” Clint’s lost most of his anger; it’s transmuted into bewilderment. “Just… tell me what you’re thinking. Please?”

There’s no fighting it, because she’s going to end up saying it one way or another. She sighs. “Drew is much better for you, Clint,” Toni says. “I’ve seen the pictures on Jan’s feed. The way you look at her. Like the way you look— looked at me. And… It’s just a matter of time before you realize it too.”

“… This is about Jessica Drew?” He squeaks, then clears his throat. “Are you… no, of course you’re serious. Toni, I have zero interest in Jessica as anything other than a friend. And even if I did, she wouldn’t be interested in me. You, maybe, but not me.”

It takes Toni an embarrassingly long time to process that into a form she can understand, and then she goes bright red. “Oh.”

“Yeah. ‘Oh.’ Dumbass.” There’s more affection than Toni has any right to expect at this point. He stands up, moves to the couch, sits beside her. “Do you seriously want to break up? Cos I may be missing something, but it sounds like you don’t.”

“Of course I don’t! I just think…” Toni slumps again, tiredly scrubs her face with a hand. “I’m afraid,” she says quietly. “Because I love you, but we’re so different and— _hey_!”

Suddenly, she’s halfway sprawled across his lap, and he’s cradling her face with both hands, kissing her hard and sweet and breathless. It’s an awkward angle, and her neck is already starting to twinge from the way it’s turned, but she doesn’t want to move for anything. “You are the dumbest genius in the world,” he says, claiming and reclaiming her mouth in between words. “We’re not breaking up.”

“Mmkay,” she says, managing to shift her legs around without breaking lip contact, straddling his thighs and looping her arms around his neck. “Why?”

“Cos I love you too,” he says, brushes her cheek with his fingers, and leans his forehead against hers, a hand warm and solid around the back of her head, gently massaging her scalp. She purrs and all but melts down, lightly faceplanting into the hollow of his shoulder. He embraces her, tight and solid, and she relaxes fully against him. “So no breaking up, dumbass. We’re going to try talking first.”

“Okay,” she says, can’t help sniffling. She closes her eyes so she doesn’t have to blink away the tears welling. “But if ‘dumbass’ is my new pet name, I’m going to be very unhappy, babe.”

She feels Clint’s wide grin against her temple, feels the laugh shake his frame. “I’m open to negotiations.”

——

Thor’s Day, it’s decided, will be a reshowing of _Pacific Rim_ , since Toni missed it the first time, and Thor wants Sif and the Warriors Three a chance to witness the epic saga for themselves. Steve’s agreeable, and by the time word spreads, most of the senior class of Avengers has decided to attend.

Toni’s center spot on the central couch is sacrosanct, because everyone knows who that couch belongs to on Thursday nights. She is, however, quite happy to share her spot with Clint, and she happily nestles against him, his arm slung around her, as the last stragglers file in just as the previews are ending.

Their couch is crowded, with Sif sitting on the back of the couch behind Thor, Toni on Clint’s lap in the center, and Tony plopped on Steve’s lap on the other side. He waggles his eyebrows at Toni and grins. She shrugs back, smiling faintly.

Natasha skulks in, pausing in the door for a moment before making eye contact with Toni and moving towards her. Toni lifts her feet, tucking her legs under her, and Natasha takes the spot she cleared off the floor, leaning back against the couch and Toni’s knees.  Jessica appears a moment later, looking tired and still dressed in her uniform, clearly just back from a mission. She doesn’t hesitate at all, just makes a beeline for Natasha and flops down beside her, sprawling on the floor and resting her head in Natasha’s lap. Toni’s eyebrows crawl into her hairline as Natasha doesn’t protest, just lifts her arm off her leg and starts petting through Jessica’s hair.

Toni nudges Natasha’s shoulder as the narration onscreen starts, and Natasha glances up. “You could have told me,” Toni says, faintly accusing. “It would have been helpful to know.”

Natasha just gives her a placid smile, and turns back to watch the TV. “If you two idiots have trouble talking,” she says, just loud enough for Toni to hear, “that’s not my fault. Besides, it all worked out, didn’t it?”

“It did,” Clint whispers behind her, and firmly shushes her when she opens her mouth to make more protests. “Now be quiet, dumbass,” he says, and brushes a kiss to her temple. “I wanna watch the movie.”

**Author's Note:**

> Follow me on [tumblr](http://mystillyoungself-ficlicious.tumblr.com/) (@mystillyoungself-ficlicious)!


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